


A Visitor in the Night

by livwrites



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: HPFT, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 17:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6338317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livwrites/pseuds/livwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her husband's death, Victoire Lupin grieves. Originally posted at harrypotterfanfiction.com under the username BellaLestrange87.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Visitor in the Night

Victoire tries to forget, she truly does, but she can never seem to quite manage it. For a moment she'll be clear of everything, and then she'll see a picture, or a candle, or something that reminds her of him.  
  
Then she falls apart.  
  
She had known, deep inside her, that it would have happened eventually, that at some point things would go south and he would be gone. To be entirely honest, she had never believed the Healers when they told her that he might die. Her Teddy was, she believed, invincible.  
  
After it happens she wanders around their house, empty, broken, and trying to figure out what to do with herself. It seems that everything in their house contains pieces of him. Every plate in the kitchen cupboard, every book on the bookshelf, well-worn, with dog-eared pages from being read so often. Every towel in the bathroom reminds her of him. She can't even walk into the bathroom to mechanically brush her teeth before going out shopping without thinking about the times they've shared.    
  
Going into the backyard is painful. She remembers it all: every party they've hosted, every time they've degnomed the garden, or simply sat out there and enjoyed the sun together.  
  
It is midnight, and she sits in the living room with a photo album and, tears running down her face, remembers.  
  
A picture Uncle Harry - now dead - had taken of the two of them the first time they'd met. She was 4, Teddy was 6, and it was Christmas. She wishes she could go back to that moment, back before the ups and the downs happened.  
  
There is a picture that Dad took of her, ready to go to King's Cross and get on the Hogwarts Express for her first year.  
  
There is a picture Teddy took of her in her third year when they started dating.  
  
There is a picture Caelum Nott took of her in her fourth year when she and Teddy had a fight and broke up.  
  
There are all the pictures Aunt Ginny took the day she and Teddy got married. They look so happy, waving at the camera. The stone on her engagement ring glints in the sun and shines like a beacon.  
  
She still wears her rings. She can't bear to take them off anymore, and her finger is so swollen from them that she doubts she'd be able to remove them anyways. She was married to Teddy for 47 years before he died. Victoire knows that she'd feel weird without a ring on her ring finger.  
  
In a way, she feels odd with Teddy gone. He had been ill with Scrofungulus for about 10 years, and she had known, the whole time, that he could very well have died, but she had chosen to ignore it and focus on the present.  
  
When he got worse, she had proved to be a less-than-ideal wife. She had gone to seek comfort from _him_ , instead of staying with her husband. And _he_ had helped her, although now that she could think with a clear head she was wondering if he had ulterior motives.  
  
He hadn't been extremely obvious, but Victoire remembers how she'd feel uncomfortable sometimes while he was talking to her. It wasn't much, just a smile here and some eyebrow wiggles there, but it made her insides shudder, made her want to run away and back to her husband, bed-ridden in St Mungo's.  
  
Still, though, he provided comfort for her when the stress became too much, and she eventually began to return his affections. Looking back, Victoire has no idea what she was thinking, and wishes fervently she could go back and hit herself on the head. She has no such feelings for him now.   
  
Sighing, Victoire sets the photo album on the table beside her and walks to the kitchen to get something from the fridge. She's not all that hungry, but feels like she must eat something. Her appetite has been gone since Teddy died.  
  
There is a bowl of chocolate pudding that Dominique had made with her a few days ago. She had needed something to do, but it has sat untouched since. Victoire can barely eat bread, let alone pudding.  
  
Tonight, though, she feels the need for some comfort food. As she sits back down in her chair with some of the pudding in a smaller bowl and a spoon, she feels vaguely better.  
  
And then there is a knock at the door. Surprised and also confused as to who it could be, Victoire sets down her pudding and pads across the room to answer the door.  
  
When she opens the door her stomach drops. Standing there is the last person in the entire world she'd ever want to see.  
  
He looks exactly the way he did a month ago, before Teddy had passed away. His hair is still that light platinum-blond it used to be, although now there is an odd grey hair here and there.  
  
Victoire stares at him for a minute before forcing herself to smile politely. "Lorcan," she says, deliberately sounding distant.  
  
Lorcan Scamander smiles that brilliant smile of his that used to captivate her heart. "Victoire," he replies, sounding both pleasant and hopeful. He holds up a bouquet of red roses, offering them out to her. She looks at them but doesn't take them.  
  
"What -" Victoire begins. Her words get caught in her throat and she has to cough and swallow before starting again. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Lorcan looks slightly disappointed that she hasn't taken the roses from him, but he forces a small smile nevertheless.  
  
"I came to offer my condolences," he says softly, "to the lovely Mrs Lupin upon the death of her husband."  
  
 _My husband died a month ago_ , Victoire thinks, but she doesn't say anything. She isn't sure what to say to Lorcan. He was there for her when she was weak during Teddy's illness, and she hates herself for it. She just isn't sure whether or not she hates him too.  
  
"Thank you," is all Victoire manages. She already feels depressed, from looking at the photo album full of happy memories of her and Teddy, and her former lover coming back is like pouring salt on an already-bleeding wound.  
  
"So, um..." Lorcan continues, clearly dismayed by her barely-friendly response. "May I come in?"  
  
Without saying anything, Victoire holds the door open for him and stands aside so he can enter the house. He walks stiffly into the sitting room, still holding the roses, and stands looking around.  
  
Victoire follows him and waits for him to start talking. He puts the roses down first, beside the photo album of her and Teddy. Noticing it, he picks it up and casually flips through it.  
  
"Was this your husband?" Lorcan asks, holding the album open to a picture of her and Teddy on their wedding day.  
  
Victoire, whose voice still seems to have deserted her, simply nods and, to show how her feelings towards him have changed, brings her left hand up to her chest and twists the wedding band around and around.  
  
Lorcan gently places the photo album back and faces her again. "So," he begins stiffly, "I'm going to be moving to France with my brother in two weeks."  
  
Victoire finally finds her voice. "And?" she questions softly.  
  
"I was wondering if you wanted to come with me."  
  
"With you? To France?" Victoire repeats.  
  
"Yes." Lorcan stands there, hands clasped in front of him, and waits. Victoire is almost certain she can see him crossing his fingers.  
  
Victoire looks at the photo album, lying on the side table next to the roses Lorcan's brought. She remembers all the moments she shared with Teddy throughout their life, a lot of them documented in the album.  
  
She knows that she isn't ready to move on from Teddy's death and live with another man, especially not a man who got to know her when her husband had been bed-ridden in St Mungo's, fighting in vain for his life.  
  
"Look, Lorcan," Victoire says, taking a deep breath, "I don't think I'm ready to move to Paris with you."  
  
Lorcan's shoulders slump but he says nothing, instead glumly motioning for her to continue.  
  
"Teddy died a month ago and I'm still grieving for him. I spent my entire life with him and..." She pauses, unsure what to say next. "And then there's what happened when he was sick."  
  
"You mean... between us?" Lorcan questions.  
  
"Yes." Victoire looks at him. "It feels really wrong now, when I look back on it. My husband, the love of my life, was dying, and I was off with another man. I just... I really regret that, and I can't stop thinking about it."  
  
Lorcan still says nothing. Instead he nods sadly, picks up the roses that he had brought, and shuffles towards the door. When he reaches her he stops and turns to face her.  
  
"Goodbye, Victoire," he tells her softly. "It's been nice knowing you."  
  
"You're not coming back," Victoire asks, surprised.  
  
"No," he asserts. "I want to start over and live a new life. Changing countries permanently is, in my opinion, the best way to do that."  
  
"Are you going to come back to visit?" Victoire asks. She's not quite sure why she wants to know this, since she just told him she won't move away with him, but the words have escaped her mouth nevertheless.  
  
Lorcan shakes his head. "No," he answers. "I'm going to start a new life, with new friends, and I won't be coming back to relive the mistakes of the old." He turns his back to her, opens the door, and Disapparates.  
  
Stunned, Victoire closes the door. It's automatic, and once it's shut she sits back down in her chair. She doesn't touch the pudding, or the photo album, but just sits.  
  
A small tear escapes from her eyelash and makes its way down her face, landing in a drop in her lap. 


End file.
